


Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know

by eprime



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Non-magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eprime/pseuds/eprime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-Magic AU. 1979. London. Just a sort of slice of life really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know

Sirius jabbed at the flyer posted on the music store's grimy window.

"We've got to see this."

James paused in the midst of his album flipping and looked over.

"The Castrators?"

"I hear they're brill."

"Where did you hear that?"

James went back to flipping through the box of records.

"Around." Sirius frowned. "Look, I don't want to go 'round to the same pub that you drag us to every weekend, filled with the same prats who all still dress in flares and suede safari jackets."

"What's wrong with flares?" Peter glared at Sirius, who only rolled his eyes and went to hover over James' shoulder.

"Shut it, Peter. Your mum still buys your clothes."

Peter sulked over to the badly mimeographed sheet over-loaded with anarchy symbols and anti-establishment slogans as James and Sirius chortled.

"It's a pretty dodgy neighborhood."

James pushed up his glasses and finally gave the flyer a second glance.

"He's right, you know."

"Come _on_, Potter." Sirius wheedled. "Live a little."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

They all turned to take in the owner of the voice. A boy about their age was leaning against one of the card tables that held cartons of vinyl. He was thin and fairly tall, clad in skinny jeans and a paint-spattered white t-shirt with a faded and amateurish band logo emblazoned across the chest. His large, brown eyes looked too big for his face and were set off by his shortish hair that stood out in rather shaggy spikes around his head. A faint red scar began at his hairline, traveled down over his cheekbone, and ended below his ear. He had a casual disreputability that Sirius instantly both envied and admired.

"And why not?" Sirius asked with a bit of a belligerent edge.

The boy gave each of them a once over and shrugged.

"Trust me. It's not exactly your kind of place."

Sirius bristled, but the boy just nodded toward Peter.

"They'll eat him alive."

James and Sirius exchanged glances.

"And you two aren't much better."

"What's wrong with us" James demanded.

The boy's lips curved up with a sardonic little twist.

"Nothing if you've just signed with Malcom McLaren and he's kitted you out for your first world-wide tour. This crowd goes for a more DIY aesthetic, if you know what I mean."

Sirius frowned. He was very fond of his studded leather jacket and he _knew_ it suited him.

"So we're just hopelessly naff if we didn't nick our wardrobe from some charity shop, is that it?"

The boy laughed.

"I didn't say that. Just if you're not in the mood for a healthy dose of 'football hooliganism'," he said the words in the accent of a news program announcer giving a report on the troubled youth of today, "then you might want to give it a miss."

He seemed amused by Sirius' defensiveness, which made Sirius prickle even more.

"We can take care of ourselves, thanks."

"Suit yourselves." Remus shrugged again. "With that hair, though, I'd be worried about being mistaken for a bird. And that place is a real dive--the clientele aren't exactly known for their gentleman-like behaviour."

James and Peter snickered and Sirius rounded on them before glaring over his shoulder at the boy.

"I think we can handle it," he said in haughty tones.

"_I_ can't," Peter disagreed. "I have a very low pain tolerance and I live at home. My mum would kill me if she saw I'd been in a ruck."

"More importantly," James said. "I was rather hoping to see if Lily wanted to come 'round for a pint tonight."

Sirius snorted. "That bit of skirt is never going to give you the time of day. Face it, Potter."

"Belt up." James scowled. "Just because you like to fancy yourself a misunderstand yob and go slumming in East End these days doesn't mean we all have a death wish."

"Fine!" Sirius threw up his hands. "Fine! You know what? Let's just all go home and go to bed and that way we can get up bright and early and find little old ladies to help across the street all day long. How does that sound?"

"Or I can tell you about a better club that has a much better band, where you won't end up with boot prints all over that pretty face."

They all turned to look at the boy again. He had three garish flyers embellished with a full moon dripping red blood fanned between his fingers and was wearing a disarming grin that lit up his whole face. Sirius gaped.

"Interested?"

 

2.

"Where is this place?"

"Just down here, I think."

"Do I look okay?"

"You look fine, Pete. We've already told you a thousand times. That t-shirt suits you."

"Did we ever get his name?"

"It's Remus Lupin."

"_Remus Lupin_?"

"It's his stage name, for his band."

"He's in a band?"

"Christ, Peter. Are you always this thick?"

"It was on the flyer, Pete. His band is playing tonight--The Lycanthropes."

"Oh."

"Look! There it is!"

"Excited are we, Black?"

"Shut it, Potter."

"It looks a bit dodgy."

"In case you weren't aware, we _are_ going to an underground club not morning prayers at Westminster."

"Are they looking at us."

"Of course they are, _I'm_ here."

"Glad to see your ego is still intact despite the fact that you look like a girl."

"Wanker."

"At least Lupin thinks you've a pretty fa--Ow!"

"Do you see him anywhere!"

"What?!"

"I said do you--oh, nevermind--there he is! Lupin!"

3.

"You were fantastic!"

Remus ducked his head a little and grinned. He and Sirius were outside in the alley having a smoke, the sounds of the next band warming up for their set filtering out into the moderately chilly air.

"Thanks."

"I wouldn't have figured you for the front man, though."

"Not pretty enough?" Remus joked.

Sirius wasn't about to answer that honestly, so he just laughed and pointed to Remus' hands as he cupped them around a fresh fag.

"You have big hands. Figured you for guitar or bass."

"Give us a light?"

He leaned forward and pressed the tip to the burning end of Sirius'. Sirius froze until Remus had settled back against the bricks and exhaled a stream of smoke toward the sky.

"I play a little," he finally said. "But I can't be arsed to practice much."

"Why not?

"Better things to do."

Remus didn't seem inclined to offer more, so Sirius didn't press. He was beginning to feel a bit awkward, which didn't make any sense. Conversation was one of his strong suits.

"Are you originally from London?"

Sirius winced on the inside. Next thing he'd be talking about the weather or the price of tea in China.

Remus gave a short laugh.

"No. You?"

"Yes," Sirius said, rather reluctantly. "My family has been here for some time."

Remus studied him expressionlessly and blew another stream across the narrow alley.

"Don't get on?"

"You could say that."

This isn't what Sirius wanted to be talking to Remus about, though just what he _did_ want to talk about remained something of a mystery.

"Where are yours then?" Sirius asked, just to break the silence.

"Up North." Remus considered. "My mum and her husband."

"Not your father?"

"My dad died when I was young. Mum married Finn when I was five. We didn't get along too well."

Remus' fingers unconciously crept up to trace over contours of his scar.

"He did that?"

Remus started and his fingers clenched together as he dropped his arm back to his side.

"Long time ago. I got out as soon as I could. Left when I was sixteen. Been here about three years now."

"Where did you go?"

"Had some friends. Stayed with them for a while. Gideon and Fabian. They were ace."

"Were?"

"Yeah. Let's just say they met with some people who didn't appreciate their outlook on life."

"Oh." Sirius didn't know what to say.

Remus shrugged.

"I left home when I was sixteen, too," Sirius blurted.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Went to live with James for a while. He's a jammy bastard. The only person I know who actually likes his parents."

"They must be good people," Remus offered.

"The best."

The silence stretched out again and they finished up their cigarettes, flicking them into an oily pool of liquid at the end of the alley.

"Stand you a drink, then?" Remus said pushing off the wall and offering Sirius a lopsided grin.

Sirius grinned back.

"I've a better idea. Let's grab Pete and James and go back to mine."

 

3.

The floor was littered with empty pints and James was sprawled out on the large sofa, the only comfortable piece of furniture in the room. He was flat on his back and snoring, one arm and leg hanging over the side of the cushions. Peter was curled into a ball on the rug cradling a half empty bottle and occasionally mumbling unintelligible words as his eyeballs twitched back and forth under his lids.

Remus was making Sirius laugh with spot on imitations of various people he had known. So far, Remus' impression of his Scottish maths professor in upper form was Sirius' favorite, and the send up along with visual aids had sent him into hysterics.

"Oh, Christ," he groaned. "_Enough_. I've got to take a piss."

"A jimmy, you mean," Remus cracked out his best East End.

His voice followed, rapping out more crude slang in a perfect accent as Sirius ran to the bog, drunk and doubled over with laughter and the intense desire not to piss down his leg before he got there.

He wasn't surprised to see Remus swaying outside the doorway in the hall when he finished. His stomach gave a little lurch as he made way for him to go in, sinking down in the hallway to wait. Remus didn't bother to close the door all the way, and Sirius did his best not to look.

"How do you even remember all that?" he called out to distract himself. Now that he was sitting down his dizziness seemed even more pronounced. He tilted his head up and watched the ceiling revolve at a steady but impressive rate.

"It's a gift." Remus smirked as he opened the door again. "Anyway, it's important to be able to fit in when you need to."

"I wouldn't have thought you cared about that," Sirius said idly, noting the way the shadows in the hall made Remus' eyes look even larger.

"Sometimes you have to. We can't all be pampered little toffs like you."

"I'm not a toff!" Sirius said indignantly.

"I'm not a toff!" Remus mimicked perfectly in Sirius' precise and cultured accent.

They both broke down snickering.

"Well, I can't help my twisted upbringing." Sirius declared. "Perhaps I should try an immersion program. You can teach me."

Remus just laughed and shook his head, sliding down the wall next to Sirius.

"Hopeless case, I think."

"Oi!"

Remus muffled his laughter behind his hand.

"You know what else I think?"

"What?"

"I think," Remus tilted his head closer, almost whispering in Sirius' ear, "that you're a bit Clark Kent."

"What?" Sirius was barely listening as the wash of warm air from Remus' mouth washed over his cheek and neck.

"You know, behind the rent."

Another wash of breath came with the cheeky words. And then it was just Remus' own voice and he had his fingers around the back of Sirius' neck, and Sirius could feel them faintly trembling as Remus looked at him with wide, solemn eyes, maybe a little scared.

"This," he said, and he pressed his mouth against Sirius'.

And even though Sirius had known, almost known, that everything was leading up to this his chest hitched and he made a sound that maybe Remus thought was a negation because the pressure on Sirius' mouth lessened and blind panic flared in his chest. It wasn't as if he was inexperienced. There had been several furtive trysts at school and twice during his gap year he'd dared to venture out to one of the more reputable clubs that catered to his preferences. But that had been scary and intimidating, and a bit depressing, and lately he'd tried to satisfy himself with immersing himself in his friends and their lives. And, _fuck_, why was he thinking about this now?

He made a clumsy grab for the front of Remus' shirt and tugged him back and the kiss opened up and became another and another, and in between Sirius was pulling Remus' faded shirt over his head and his own off as well in one smooth motion. And there was too much air between them, so Sirius staggered up and pulled Remus with him only to shove him against the wall and grind against him until they both were hard and panting.

He reached down to fumble with their zippers trying not to lose contact with Remus' mouth and swearing as his alcohol-fogged reflexes slowed his progress. Then Remus' fingers were there and like magic divested them of the rest of their clothes. Sirius muttered obscenities as their cocks shifted against each other, and he pinned Remus' wrists against wall.

He had to work to keep him there because Remus was pushing into him, arching off the wall as Sirius bit down his throat leaving wet, red marks in his wake.

"_Fuck_", Remus groaned.

Sirius went for his mouth again, exchanging sloppy, wet, drunken kisses until Remus breathed out a _please_, and Sirius pulled back and spun him around and pressed him back up against the wall.

"Have you ever..." he murmured against the flesh of Remus' shoulder.

"Yes," he said, spreading his feet wide and grinding back against Sirius. "Yes."

Sirius shuddered and lifted his fingers to his mouth to suck and lick until they were well-coated with his own saliva, then he reached down and let his fingertips find and play over Remus' pucker.

"Sirius," Remus groaned, and Sirius was struck that this was the first time Remus had uttered it.

He pushed a finger past the ring of muscle and he could feel Remus tense.

"Say it again," he demanded twisting in deeper, stretching and adding another finger and working Remus until he shook his head from side to side and shivered.

Remus stuttered out Sirius' name with a flattering and choked need.

"Enough. Do it now," he begged.

"My room," Sirius said, reeling down the hall and into his bedroom with Remus in tow. His bed was covered in dirty laundry and bike magazines, so Sirius just bent him over his desk and spit into his hand, slicking his cock without ceremony and then lining it up at Remus' hole.

Remus spread his legs wider and gripped the far edge of the desk with a white-knuckled intensity.

With one hand braced on the desk beside Remus, Sirius pushed past the tight ring, grunting at the resistance and the slow glide of tight heat, and utterly getting off on the little sounds Remus was making as he worked to relax and accept the intrusion.

"All right," Sirius gasped, working himself in all the way with tight little thrusts.

"Fuck, yes." Remus nodded, forehead against the desk. "Fucking _move_."

Sirius let out a huff of laughter and started moving with long, rough, thrusts. Remus groaned, pushing back against Sirius as much as his position allowed.

"Like it?" Sirius asked, wanting to hear Remus say that he did in that rough-warm voice that made Sirius' skin shiver.

"Yeah," Remus gasped. "Just like that...like it...like it rough."

Sirius was suddenly thankful he was so pissed because without the alcohol acting as a dampener, he'd have probably come just from hearing Remus saying those words. As it was, he shuddered and slowed for a brief moment to get a better grip, and then he was crouching over Remus, pounding into him with hard, deliberate strokes.

"You like being fucked hard?" he breathed against the the back of Remus' neck.

Remus moaned again.

"Your arse is so tight, so fucking hot." Sirius sank his teeth into the muscle joining Remus' throat and shoulder and Remus jerked back onto Sirius' cock with a mewling, half-pained cry.

"Gonna fuck you...so good..." Sirius was panting heavily now. "Won't be able to sit for a month."

"Fuck. Fuck, _please_," Remus rasped. "Touch me."

Still thrusting roughly, Sirius reached around to take Remus's cock in hand, flicking his thumb across the leaking head. Remus writhed.

"Yeah," Sirius whispered. "That's it."

He worked Remus' cock with sharp, fast tugs, matching the pace his hips were setting. Any pretense of finesse at all was completely gone. He shoved into Remus' hole frantically, thrusts getting rapidly more uneven and desperate until he finally gave over and collapsed against Remus' sweaty back. He made his hand keep working Remus, licking at the prominent knobs of his spine until Remus gave a shuddering cry and arched them up off the desk for a few intense seconds.

"Fucking hell," he gasped, collapsing back against the now sticky wood.

Sirius' cock slipped out and he helped Remus stand and stagger over to the bed where they brushed everything onto the floor and fell asleep in a tangled, sticky heap.

When Sirius woke up in the morning to the sound of James and Peter banging pans about in the kitchen and saw that Remus was gone, he realized he didn't even have a number for him.

 

4.

Sirius went back to the record store several times over the next few weeks and back to the club, but he never saw Remus and no one seemed to know where he was. He resigned himself to the idea that it was just a one time thing, and that the connection he had thought he felt with the unusual boy who had sent him so off kilter was just a passing fancy or the product of a wishful imagination.

He had finally decided to let it go and join James and Peter at the pub for a drink that night. The pub was crowded as usual and Sirius had to fight his way through the throng to get to their regular table. His jaw dropped as he saw James, who was beaming proudly, sitting at the table between Peter and a gorgeous redhead.

"Evans." Sirius shook his head. "I'm shocked. Thought better of you, really."

Everyone laughed.

"Oi!" James gave Sirius a mock-glare.

"Lily is having a brilliant time tonight. You _are_, aren't you, Lily?"

He looked to her wide-eyed and sporting his most earnest expression.

"It hasn't been the complete disaster I thought it would be."

Sirius was pulled away from the laughter by a pint being dangled in front of his face.

"I never did stand you that drink."

He turned and stared. Remus watched him with a small half-smile. He was holding two bottles and looking uncertain, like he wasn't sure if he might ought to bolt instead.

"What are you doing here? Didn't think this was exactly your kind of place."

Both sides of his lips quirked up then.

"Ran into your friend James at the record store. He thought I might like to come 'round tonight."

James really was a busybody. Sirius shouldn't be surprised.

"I looked for you as well, you know."

The words came out in a faintly accusing tone. Sirius wasn't sure why he was acting all stiff and standoffish. He didn't _want_ to be acting like an uptight prig. It's not as if they had _been_ anything to each other. They'd only met the once. But, if he was honest, his feelings had been hurt.

Remus looked uncomfortable again and stared down at his shoes.

"Look, I'm sorry about before. Leaving without saying anything. It's just--"

"It's all right," Sirius said quickly. "It wasn't a big deal."

Remus looked up and met Sirius' eyes.

"Right." He nodded slowly. "Well, I don't want to interrupt your evening with your mates, so--"

"Wait," Sirius said, kicking himself for acting so wet.

"I mean, I'm glad you're here now." He made an effort and smiled. "I had fun that night."

They both flushed and let their eyes travel around to suddenly interesting parts of the pub as they remembered exactly what kind of fun they'd had.

"Me too."

"So, listen.".

"Yeah?" Remus looked at him curiously.

"You going to join us, then?"

Sirius grabbed a pint from Remus' hand and grinned, gesturing at the table behind him.

"Tell us all about the mysterious Mr. Lupin?"

Remus laughed as Sirius tugged him to the chairs across from the others.

"What do you want to know?"

"What's your _real_ name?"

"I am never telling you that, Black."

"What if I guess?"

"No."

"I bet I can."

"I'm still not telling you."

"Is it Archibald?"

"No need to snort. How about Fitzwilliam?"

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"Until you tell me. Torquil?"

"Don't laugh! Just tell me if I'm getting warmer."

"Hm...Elvendork?"

"That's _my_ name! I came up with it for my first born."

"Stuff it, James. You don't own it, you know."

"_Elvendork_?"

"It's unisex, Lily!"

"Cornwallis?"

"That's a surname, prat."

"It's got to be horrid or he wouldn't keep it a secret!"  
  
"Oh, for--"

"Dudley?"

"No."

"Ebenezer?"

...


End file.
